


IchiRuki Month 2020

by deadly_tues_days



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Arranged Marriage, Captain Kurosaki Ichigo, Depowered Kurosaki Ichigo, F/M, Hurt Kurosaki Ichigo, IchiRuki Month, Ichiruki Historical AU, Injured Kurosaki Ichigo, Marriage Proposal, Post-Chapter 686: Death & Strawberry, original vizard!ichigo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26638807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadly_tues_days/pseuds/deadly_tues_days
Summary: Sometimes, it's easy to meet, love, and fall for each other again countless times. Sometimes, love, and pain go hand in hand.Ichiruki Month 2020 Personal Fic CollectionTags will be added as we go.
Relationships: Kuchiki Rukia & Kurosaki Ichigo, Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	1. Once Upon a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobles don't daydream. Lieutenants don't fantasize. Warriors don't hope.

Rukia Kuchiki. A mere Rukongai citizen accepted into a noble family and treated nothing short of royalty, much to the elders' distaste. The soul reaper was well aware that the servants would bring her anything she desired, yet they seemed to be getting their own wishes granted since the youngest Kuchiki's arrival. Far from _normal,_ Rukia still radiated humility. She was well aware of her origins and her attitude mimicked that of someone who had nothing. In her eyes, she was average despite her nobility and rank.

A regular hollow here, a regular report there, and a far from _normal_ war that shouldn't have happened. Rukia wasn't sure if it was _normal_ to blame herself for that. It was beyond her control. It wasn't in her hands at all, according to Aizen's relayed message. Yet she shouldn't have been so naive. She should have questioned the odds of her being stationed in the World of the Living. The odds of running into an exiled criminal. The odds of countless spiritually aware people. The odds that a rookie would be put in a juureichi. The odds that she met him. The one person the war seemed to centered around. It wasn't her fault. The _traitor_ had said so. If anyone even had the right to feel guilty it would be Urahara. Still, she blamed herself.

_'It's alright. After all, we had met. And I'm sure you'll come and visit.'_

One good thing had come out of her mistake and due to another one of her faults it had ended in shambles as well. They weren't supposed to meet and fall in love due to some mad man's war. Their relationship wasn't supposed to end. He wasn't supposed to be alone. It's not what love is. Rukia should have met Ichigo at the academy; in her squad, perhaps. They would fall for each other and worry when one was sent on a mission. They'd get married. Rise through the ranks. Stand together at a captain's meeting. Take care of the occasional hollow. Fill out reports in each other's offices. There shouldn't be room for war and traitors. They had to keep the world balanced, yet dragging a kid into something no human nor soul should ever have to experience ended up in the job description.

Rukia Kuchiki. She was the lieutenant of Squad Thirteen. She wasn't meant to be in the World of the Living during peace times, _normal_ times. She was also a noble. She wasn't supposed to daydream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh i dont think that really flowed together properly. still- wooo here we go again! i havent written in a bit so here i am, testing out my skills with a drabble for day one. expect things to get longer <3


	2. Fantasy vs. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was their hero. He was her knight in shining armour.

"Rukia,"

It was in every storybook he read to Yuzu. Just another fantasy. The prince is supposed to _know_ his lover's agony with no insight on her troubles. He would drop everything and race to her aid. His sister would laugh when they kissed, as if the suffering was an easily forgettable thing of the past.

He couldn't forget. Ichigo had scars. He'd _have_ scars when, and if, he woke up in his bed after returning home. His hands were tied and the rope stung, his opponent making no move to loosen their grip. The substitute could feel her, there was never a time he was unaware of her presence, yet there was a blindfold over his eyes. He was effectively blinded and tied down, unable to make a move towards the girl in distress.

Rukia was barely there, her spiritual pressure having dulled, and he was barely sane as he debated his options of ditching the former espada that was hell bent on keeping him away from his friend. They'd made a promise. There was a mission. _Rescue Orihime. Survive. Win the war._

Everyone vowed to stick to the plan, to make it out alive.

The idea, the _fantasy_ , that he had to protect _everyone_ had his brain running in circles. Kurosaki could feel them. Orihime was waiting. Uryuu was pissed. Chad was coming up with a plan. Renji was running. Rukia. Rukia was hurt. She was injured and he was supposed to save _everyone_. Ichigo wasn't destined to let his efforts to stop her execution go to waste. He was destined to be _everyone's_ saviour, but _her_ knight in shining armour.

_"Chad, right after I defeat this captain guy, I'm coming."_

"Rukia, I'll get Orihime and get us out of here. Just you wait a little longer,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a drabble again. thank the lovely time crunch. hopefully today treated you guys better!


	3. Stars in Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo loved the way the night sky was reflected in her eyes. He also loved how she looked in a kimono.

He rubbed the bottom seam between his fingers, his eyes searching the deep violet kimono that was laid atop his bed for a price tag.

"I thought you said this was new," Ichigo grumbled, releasing his hold on the traditional garb.

"It is! I bought it maybe forty years ago, but I haven't exactly worn it since," Rukia retaliated from her perch on the window seat that sat parallel to the frameless bed centered on the wall furthest from the door.

It was a rather large room, compared to what the lieutenants were given, yet little furniture sat about. The door led to right corner of the room, where a window seat was built in, surrounded on each side by a short wooden dresser whose bottom half served as a book shelf. On the back wall was a desk and chair, a foldable table and a few zabuton leaning against the mahogany furniture. A bed was on the last wall, centered only a few feet from a door that led to a bathroom complete with a shower and tub.

"It wasn't my money that I bought it with, actually,"

"Oh, so you're a thief now?" Kurosaki sneered.

"No! It was a gift from my brother. He just let me pick it out,"

The obi was the same shade of purple as the rest of the outfit, though the white sakura blossoms that decorated the fabric didn't exceed the boundaries set by the sash tied loosely around the middle. Rukia had thrown a punch after Ichigo protested against a last minute shopping trip, stating that there was no need for his attitude or shopping.

There was to be a party at squad ten's barracks, their captain reluctantly agreeing to allow the joint celebration to take place near his quarters. New Year's Eve as well as preparation for a Show of Arms, which was scheduled to include the Seireitei's newest captains, fell on the same day. According to Matsumoto, the night following their practice left a _perfect_ time for a celebration, with Ichigo and The Year of the Rooster on the center stage.

Following Ukitake's death, the captain's position had been left vacant in order for a time to heal, a mere excuse to cover up the arguing that took place regarding who should take over the thirteenth. The other vacant captain's positions left by Aizen and his cohorts had been taken over by the squads' respective lieutenants, aside from the fifth who had Renji Abarai as their leader, and their former third seat acting as a lieutenant due to Hinamori's transfer to the tenth in order to become Hitsuguya's third seat. They all had proven themselves throughout the two wars that should have never been, as said by Head Captain Kyoraku, and no objections had been made. No objections were made either when Kurosaki had taken up the Gotei Thirteen's offer to provide him a position of power in the Soul Society. The position Ukitake left behind.

It had become evident to those around the former substitute, though nobody dare mention it, that he had given up his complaints about being normal, opting instead for the life in the soul society his temporary loss of powers proved he _needed_. Gossip spread through the Seireitei fast, rather it be because of Shuuhei's news stories or rumours between the typically clueless squad members. Kurosaki had grown close with the lieutenant of the thirteenth, the Kuchiki elders and Byakuya reluctantly accepting the war hero's oddly polite pleas to allow him and Rukia to marry due to his upcoming captaincy ceremony.

The pair had taken up residence in Ichigo's quarters at the thirteenths barracks ever since his arrival a few weeks after peace had become a new normal for the soul reapers. Rumours still flew far before that, speculation about their relationship starting after Ichigo's reason for invading the soul society became common knowledge. The fire was only fed by the couple's reunion following the former substitute's one-hit-wonder that took down Aizen. A fiery passion for carrying out what Ichigo believed to be right, a love that burned hotter than the sun, had pushed the two together. They balanced each other out. Hot headed, and stubborn in battle; cool, collected, and firm in the face of danger.

"You almost ready?"

Ichigo tapped his knuckles against the wooden door that connected his room, their room, to a bathroom.

After laying out her outfit, Rukia headed for the shower, water still clinging to the glass as she got in after Ichigo rushed to get himself prepared.

"You know I can't tie this thing myself, dumb ass!"

"Well quit complaining and come on out then!"

"Who said I needed your help," Rukia snapped back, turning the bronze knob which effectively pushed Kurosaki backwards.

"You just-"

Rukia slammed the door behind her. Jumping forward so that she could hang from the former substitute's shoulders, she smirked when her face was level with his.

"I'm not little girl. I was just messing with you,"

"Really? You certainly aren't a very tall girl,"

The Kuchiki clenched her teeth and leaned in for a kiss, only to hurl herself onto the floor once Ichigo got the message. 

"Brat!"

The captain reached down to ruffle Rukia's hair, his evil course of action ceasing once he realized what he was about to ruin. He had spent New Year's Eve with Rukia in the World of the Living a few years ago. Her silky hair had been shoulder length, causing a great deal of patience on Orihime's part to draw the raven strands up into a bun. Upon becoming lieutenant of the thirteenth, she had cut her hair so that it fell to her chin which didn't last long as once it reached it's prior state, Rukia had made the decision to let it grow out. Now, for the most part, her hair cascaded down her back aside from the one strand she was fixed upon keeping short and in place.

"I thought you needed help tying your sash," Kurosaki grunted.

Her hair was pulled into an inverted ponytail, the ends stuck to the centre of her head with a golden comb clip that was decorated with marble stones along the top. Rukia's side bangs still framed her face, yet were pulled back a little at the top with yet another gold and marble decorated clip on her right. A silver tassel hung down from the middle of the second clip, the one which Ichigo remembered purchasing for her during a vernal equinox celebration. With the beauty these overly expensive hair clips provided, it was no wonder Rukia didn’t wish to reveal herself until she was completely dressed up.

Kurosaki's eyes had since drifted downwards. The Kimono appeared as if it were shining in the white light that engulfed the room, the purple silk earning a tinge of silver which matched the sakura blossoms towards the bottom. It wasn't overly tight nor overly loose. The arms hung down a little, as to be expected, and the only part that accentuated her body was where the violet obi was tied neatly around her waist, the bow peeking out at her sides.

"I did. I just didn't want you to see,"

"That's odd considering you sat there and watched me get dressed an hour ago,"

"I meant the clothes, idiot! It's not like you were wearing anything special. You pulled on your second shihakusho and your haori after your shower and ruffled your hair. Maybe sometimes you should go all out. It's a party for a reason,"

Ichigo gave the room a once over before leaning down to peek out the window.

"The moons out. I guess it's time for us to be out too,"

The captain turned the knob and pulled the door open, mumbling a fabricated 'after you' as Rukia carried herself onto the balcony with perfect posture.

"Shall we?" She responded, reciprocating his feigned propriety.

"We shall,"

Kurosaki took her pale hand in his own, drawing their hands to his side. His eyes wandered upwards opposed to keeping his gaze on his _fiancée_ , or the pathway for that matter. Ichigo did manage to find his way back to Rukia, staring into her eyes as they hesitated in front of the tenth's barracks. They were violet, he remembered, just like the night sky. Just like the stars, they shone.

_One more month. They would be each other's_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ichigo still has nice looking hair just fyi guys. hope you enjoyed! this one was a lot better than yesterdays in my opinion. for starters, it isnt depressing so thats worth something. oh and there was meaning behind it being the year of the rooster. the last on was in 2017, the year after the manga ended so do with that what you will.


	4. Crossing Blades, Crossing Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's hands were tied. It was her and the quincy, and she couldn't breathe. She needed to escape.

She'd made a promise to Orihime, though, Rukia was sure that despite girl's innocence, Orihime knew there was no way her words held meaning. They weren't empty either; just an act of uncertainty worming it's way into her statement meant to appease the girl's wandering mind. She was torn between commitments, that much Rukia understood. It was a promise made to ease both of their worries. A repeated mantra between everyone now that their own battles had been finished.

It wasn't Ichigo's last obstacle, the rumours of his upper hand against Aizen having reached their ears, but it certainly would be the biggest one in this realm since the most imposing spiritual pressures vanished after Aizen's announcement.

The noble assumed the decision also came from fear. There was a change in the atmosphere between Ichigo and Orihime, their spiritual pressures having openly conveyed fear and sorrow to those nearby. A stalled friendship, not that anyone was on perfect terms with their compatriots, it was war, after all. Still, trust was bountiful between Ichigo's comrades, though Inoue's had become hesitant, as if she analyzed every move she made far more carefully. Paranoia. War did that too. Rukia wasn't free either, yet she and Uryuu were the first ones tasked with confronting their fears.

_Was the soul society's secret weapon still there? Was their friend, her comrade, still breathing?_

Kuchiki had been healed since her last ordeal with the ninth espada. She had longed to rejoin the battle alongside Chad and Renji, yet was effectively barred under her brother's, a _captain's_ , orders. She was required to watch and wait, as Byakuya had gone to the boys' aid. The noble was pissed, yet that was better than being dead. She was alive. _They_ were alive, and _she_ had to _watch_ the possible demise of another companion, of _Ichigo_.

Rukia wasn't ignorant. The battle was coming to a close, a quite obvious one sided affair. Ichigo may have stood a chance twenty minutes ago, but she knew nothing good could come of the smothering pressure of the espada she and Uryuu were racing along to fight regardless of the evident hopelessness of the situation.

_Everyone's hands were tied. It was her and the quincy, and she couldn't breathe. She needed to escape._

"Ichigo!" Uryuu had shouted, he and Rukia racing towards where their _friend's_ body had fallen.

She'd struggled against the ninth, Ishida against the eighth, Kurosaki took down the sixth, and was killed by the fourth. Rukia had almost given up, but Kaien had come to her rescue. Rukia had accepted death, yet Ichigo turned her world around. She had killed Kaien, and led Ichigo down the path to his death.

"Rukia, can yo-"

"Dance, Sode no Shirayuki!"

Her chest hurt, though it was nothing compared to the hole in Ichigo's, and her ears tingled due to the shouting that surrounded her. It was always loud, always overwhelming, and she _always_ tuned it out. She thought of where she moved, yet aside from her opponents her surroundings faded away. Rukia had never realized how loud fighting was. Until she met Ichigo. The pain in her shoulder that night seemed to slow time. Blood flows when your hurt, but time, time doesn't. She had wanted it to be over, needed it to be over, and she still did. It needed to stop. It needed to end.

_Had it ended?_

_No._

She felt restricted, the bandages around her waist tugged with every slash of her sword that _kept_ missing it's target. Arrows. The sound of a bow being drawn distracted her from the tearing of flesh on her ankle and from the body behind her. The espada could fly and she could no longer walk. Uryuu couldn't gain ground. He was _on_ the ground. Time was slow as she hoisted herself upright and aimed her sword, yet she still had no time to grieve. The pain momentarily faded as she called on her zanpakuto, yet she was still filled with the fear she hadn't felt since her lieutenant, her _idol_ , found himself impaled by _her_. It needed to stop.

"Some no mai, Tsukishiro,"

Nothing. He dodged.

"Tsugi no mai, Hakuren,"

Nothing. Too far away.

"San no mai, Shirafune"

Hit. No, a _scrape_.

"Rukia, move!"

The soul reaper in question heeded the warning, flash stepping to the side as arrows rained down upon where the espada made a move for her neck.

Hit. No, another _scrape_.

There were still explosions and clashing spiritual pressures shaking the ground from below. She was alone.

_'All because of Aizen. Why hadn't it stopped? Why were the captain's powerless as he defected? Was it all because of me? Why?'_

She wanted out. Rukia had helped Ichigo escape. She showed him a new world. A world filled with conflict, yet he thanked her everyday they were together.

_Where was the peace? There was never supposed to be room for traitors and war. Now, she wasn't even allowed to scream._

Not when Ichigo died, she couldn't even cry. Not when he got back, be it of his own will or that _one_ part of him that had her questioning his truth behind _'I'm fine.'_ Not when he killed the espada effortlessly. Not when he, that _thing_ that terrorized Kurosaki, didn't stop. Not when she and Ishida pleaded with Ichigo to just _stop_. Not even when he, that _thing_ she decided, slashed at her shoulder. She bit her tongue, even when _Ichigo_ raced to her side. Even when Ichigo yelled, she laughed.

"At least you're alright," Rukia said, as Ichigo carried her back under the canopy of Las Noches, his hands gentle despite the rage against himself that was nearly suffocating her.

_He was far from ok, but he was alive. She had crossed blades with a monster, but she was breathing. It had stopped. For the time being_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh ok look. basically i feel like there was potential in that scene. also i hope the repetition and italics evoked that kinda panicked, stuck, oh no vibe for you guys. i imagine thats how rukia would feel. trapped in a battle she didnt wanna fight while ichigo lay dead behind her. though that 'dead' part didnt last long. i think this one was ok. thoughts on my depiction of rukia?


	5. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn't like the pain but he couldn't bring himself to get rid of it. Where would it go?  
> To think her voice kept him from a painless end.

His arm had gone numb between his body weight and the wet gravel that was soaking his clothes and undoubtedly the one-thousand yen bill he had slipped into his front pocket that was now drenched in rain water and blood. Ichigo had no intention of rolling over onto his back. He was afraid if he relaxed the nausea and pain would tenfold and he wasn't sure if his legs were willing to straighten out after he had curled in on himself. He was equally determined to remain laying on his side so that rain water and gravel had no chance to get _inside_ his punctured abdomen and so that _girl_ that had run him through had no chance to say anything other than her empty _'sorry's_ and _'give it time's_.

Kurosaki wanted to believe there was motive, although it was something the both of them seemed to be lacking lately, not that the small raven haired girl had any clue of his affairs. Her hands were wrapped around his one arm that was facing upright, trying to soothe him despite her lack of support in over a year. Ichigo now had to support himself in multiple ways, working odd jobs to pay rent despite Kisuke's persistent attempts to deny payment for his stay in the shop. The former substitute had originally gone to the Vizards, considering they were overly eager about taking him in, only to find most of them had _left_ as well. He was desperate for a new place to stay, regardless of he and his father's newfound intimacy, similar to how he walked into a new room out of boredom, assuming all his problems would be solved with a change of scenery.

Ichigo was fond of Urahara and Yoruichi. The two had been carefree, aside from him, since the end of the war, having no need for secret conferences between him and his friends. Uryuu had also depicted concern, which prompted many _strictly_ verbal squabbles between the two, Chad and Orihime both too unsure of what they should do or say regarding Kurosaki's mental deterioration. All of them had changed, noted by Tatsuki after Ichigo swallowed his pain and clued her, Keigo, and Mizuiro in on recent events.

Each one of them was _different_ , between ditching class to hunt hollows and how they silently assured each other, in neither a good nor bad sense. Despite how normalcy tried to take over their lives, they remembered the conflicts of the past and managed to come out as fine as they could aside from physical scars and mental wars. Nobody died and they had nothing to fear other than what they now knew was lurking at night.

_They were fine. They'd be fine. They were still alive._

They each had gotten their dream job at fifteen, and Ichigo had to watch what he could still see from the sidelines. He wasn't dead, he said he was fine after he emerged from battle victorious with no sign of injury, yet they knew he might as well be. Everything he wanted was _there_ , after all, and nobody, _nothing_ , made a move to come back.

_Ichigo was fine. He insisted he was fine. He was alive. That's exactly what fine is, right?_

Ichigo assumed it had been a minute now, though time hadn't seemed to pass that fast in the _previous_ times he had been stabbed, which was far too many. The girl's, _that girl's_ , calm and reassuring voice had twisted into something no short of panic. She had pulled out her soul pager, judging by the beeping that reached his ears, and had relinquished her grip on him. He hadn't said much and he wasn't the one to be _quiet,_ as others pleaded, when he thought it was all over, which Ichigo guessed had been _far_ too many times for someone his age or someone at all.

_At least he beat Uryuu in something._

The former substitute had gone numb and he could feel his body relaxing, his back disobediently falling against sidewalk. He had moved his estimated time up to three minutes, deciding that it was far too early for him to be falling prey to unconsciousness. Ichigo's eyes had long since been closed, the rain pelting down forcing him to shield himself from harsh weather and meeting _her_ eyes.

His chest hurt and he felt like he was drowning. He was used to being suffocated, to being swallowed, yet his predicament was rather that he couldn't figure out what was causing the _sudden_ spike of a pain that had dulled out. Kurosaki gasped as his throat spasmed, prompting the soul reaper by his side to resume her typing with one hand on his side and the other shaking as she punched in letters for what he assumed to be a mission report. His breathing had once again become frantic compared to the lax inhales that matched his numb body a few seconds prior and her continuous apologies became just as strained while she tried _not_ to look up.

Ichigo felt trapped, he _was_ trapped. His hands had refused to move once he fell over to unwillingly face the raven haired girl, but he soon found they had no problem ripping at his throat as involuntary panic set in. His headache had begun to pulsate, the stomach acid previously crawling up his throat turning from a dull burn to pure fire. It was almost as everything _itched_. He wanted to twitch, he wanted to _thrash_ , and Kurosaki couldn't tell if he was satisfying that craving over his need to just _breathe_.

He needed to calm down and _breathe_ and he might live a little bit longer. It was instinct. That need to live, that need to do _something_. That purpose he thought he'd abandoned, or rather that had abandoned him long ago. He wasn't needed, hasn't been needed for seventeen months, yet here _she_ was.

After one of those months, Ichigo had admitted that Rukia was keeping him from his peaceful end. He had considered a _solid_ end, yet the plan was far from foolproof considering he'd only end up surrounded by everything, _everyone_ , he wanted back. He presumed that was meant to make it worse. It was meant to trap him and keep him here.

The thoughts being around Kisuke evoked had worn off. He opted instead to coexist with his immortal problems rather than trying to forget. Kurosaki had given up fighting, not that he even fought the pain in his chest that insisted on inching up his throat and suffocating him, and had instead become consumed. He paid no mind. He was stuck.

_He didn't like the pain but he couldn't bring himself to get rid of it. Where would it go?_

_To think her voice kept him from a painless end._

It had stopped. He got out, yet he was still stuck. He could open his eyes and easily be surrounded by carefree, happy, souls or have blades at his throat, their wielders reading the weapon's wishes through their minds, and easily taking the company for granted.

Ichigo wanted to believe there was motive, yet her words, that he pretended to ignore, conveyed no reason. Nothing but her promise to _make it better._ For over a year, he had to mull it over. Aside from the occasional effort to keep his grades up or maintain his transparent facade, that's all he willed himself to do. He outright refused to label her a bad person despite her seemingly _evil_ acts against him. Kurosaki knew she could have easily done whatever she wanted with him already, and he would have let her, yet Rukia had said and done _everything_ for _his_ best interest before her disappearance. Before her _abandonment_ of him.

_Why?_

"Ichigo?"

_Why should he answer?_

"Ichigo!"

_Why?_

"Why?"

"We found a solution,"

_Why did she cut her hair?_

"What?"

His eyes were open, a risk Ichigo had decided to take, and the pain had stopped as he asked. He was permitted to relax, and he made no move to stop the now _dry_ fabric on his body from getting wet. He could think, he could see, and his body let him be still. He could breathe. He could move. Yet he was still stuck.

_Why did it still hurt?_

"The captains, they had an idea. They sent me. Now grab your sword, idiot. You're to appear before the captains and lieutenants tonight. Your father has been notified,"

_Why didn't his wound hurt?_

"I moved out,"

"What?"

Rukia began her own inquiry, carefully following the path Ichigo set out, afraid to stray too far from where the conversation led her. It had _never_ been awkward between them. Their conversations following battles and rescues had been short, yet they flowed naturally, relief slowing their racing hearts and softening their voices.

"I'm staying with Kisuke. The Vizards, they left me for the Soul Society too,"

"Congrats. I, uh, hear that's a big thing for humans," Kuchiki cleared her throat before continuing,

"Yes. About two months after everything. How are you feeling?"

"Fine,"

"Rukia?" Ichigo coughed, his scratchy throat compromising the gentle tone he had unwillingly taken on.

"Yes?"

"Why?"

_Why was he avoiding it?_

"Why what?"

"Why did they leave? Why did _you_ leave?"

She was thoroughly shocked. The noble expected minor communication issues. Needed apologies. She expected him looking different, calling her old, him being stubborn. Rukia didn't expect pain. Giving up. She didn't expect blame, awkwardness, weakness.

"We were forbidden. We didn't know if it would work. Ichigo, I- Sorry. I'm sorry,"

"I heard you the first time. You didn't try,"

Rukia exhaled quickly, letting out a huff as her eyes widened. Her knuckles grew white from their grip on the soul pager, her other hand digging into her thigh. She instinctively straightened her posture, her calves once again holding her up as she situated herself back on her knees.

"You don't think I tried? I orchestrated _several_ lieutenant's meetings and got Captain Ukitake to speak with the Head Captain! You dumbass! I thought you wouldn't miss me! How have you fallen so low?" The noble paused, sighing before forcing her voice to lower, to remain _calm_.

_Why was she so angry?_

Rukia didn't want to yell. She didn't mean to yell.

_Why was he so hurt?_

"Ichigo. I'm sorry. I tried. I swear I tried. Did you think I wanted to leave you? I didn't know- I did know you would be upset but I- you're strong and- How bad, Ichigo?"

_Why was she so ignorant?_

She'd given in. She was afraid and she hated it. She was sorry and she needed to show it. She wanted to help and she needed to figure out how.

_Why?_

"I'm fine,"

_Why was he faking?_

"Ichigo-"

_Did that all make it better?_

"It's not your fault. Don't we have to go somewhere, Lieutenant?"

_Does he want it to be over?_

"Yeah. We can talk later, if you'll let me,"

_Why isn't it better?_

_Why is he afraid?_

_Why is he mad?_

Ichigo used his hands to push himself up, giving his shikakusho a once over as he sat up cross legged, his obi pressing the now wet fabric against his skin. The rain had slowed, it having refused to come to a complete stop throughout the day and into the night. Water had pooled on the dips in the concrete, and he hoped the downpour continued if only to wash away the blood.

Kurosaki raised himself to his knees and pushed off the ground.

"It's back," He whispered, searching the ground for his zanpakuto.

"That was the plan," Rukia responded.

_Why?_

_If she was here, why was he mad?_

_If she was here, why did it hurt?_

Ichigo didn't know if it was fear or anger.

_Why can't he forgive her yet?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't asked this before, but please do critique this if you intend to criticize anything. i was proud at first, but then i was in a hurry and am afraid it all became a mess. also, ive wanted to do something with the lost agent arc for awhile but was afraid there would be inaccuracies since its been so long. of course i could never stay away from bleach, the only show ill never move on from, so here i am, rewatching/reading, and making content to make up for old works i lost.


	6. I See You Fall to Pieces Like a Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wishing he was dead, he was still a hero and she had no way to piece him back together.

He held his breath, eyes squinted as he tried to focus on where his sword went after he dropped it during the follow through of a swing that had taken out a low level hollow. Ichigo attempted to position himself so that he landed properly, kneeling on one knee, but his legs followed his arms' lead, leaving his limbs on the verge of numbness as he and Zangetsu separately plummeted to the ground, posture forgotten. It wasn't as if he wasn't expecting his downfall. The headaches were becoming stronger, longer, and more accurate. What Kurosaki _didn't_ anticipate, was for him to lose feeling mid-swing and leave his already battered body falling to it's doom.

About a week had passed since he returned home, Rukia in tow and on a mission she stated she suggested to the Head Captain after she was called into a captain's meeting to give her eye witness report of the events in Hueco Mundo. Prior to that, mental and physical amends had been made throughout the Soul Society, 'thank you's, apologies, and rumours becoming the leading topic of conversation as reparations were made. Everything was as normal as possible, the Department of Research and Development having repaired the broken parts of Karakura town and erased memories of the non spiritually aware residents during Ichigo's first few days of unconsciousness following the end of the war. It wasn't normal per se, Tatsuki, Keigo and Mizuiro were still confused and hesitant, but it had become Ichigo's friends' new, hopefully longer-lived, peace times. There wasn't meant to be time for traitors and wars. There wasn't meant to be a human teenager fighting them either.

It was his fantasy, his _belief_ , that he had to save everyone, that everyone had to be alright, but he couldn't save himself. Kisuke knew this. Everyone knew this, Uryuu and Rukia even going as far as to criticize his self sacrificial nature that they had both witnessed multiple times throughout the past year. He had wanted to do it. Ichigo had no regrets. He did the right thing; Urahara assured him he had nothing to be sorry for. He wasn't sorry. He was _afraid_. He was in _pain_. It hurt and he hated himself for it. If he didn't risk it all, they would _be_ dead. Since he did risk it all, he _felt_ dead. Dead, or wishing he was, he would be rendered _completely_ useless.

"Ichigo?"

Kurosaki pegged the current time around midnight. Rukia, who had stayed with him for the past weeks, had attempted to leave for a late night hollow hunt, the substitute giving her hell for trying to leave him behind. He understood, and that was all the more reason he _needed_ to go. He understood _exactly_ what was happening when he got lightheaded or woke up in the middle of the night unable to breathe. He had to do while he could despite his friends' pleas to conserve his spirit energy. They weren't going to get hurt as long as he had his powers and _without_ , he'd step in in anyway he could, be it dragging one of them out of a battle or stepping between a friend and a foe.

"Ichigo! Are you all right?"

The substitute in question could hear the rustling of fabric as Rukia landed next to him. It was something she had the leisure of doing without crashing onto the roof of a building in the middle of town, Ichigo's body taking the fall damage opposed to the building in _his_ way.

He was sprawled out on his back, wanting to curl up in an attempt to refrain from spilling his lunch, but far too afraid that the movement would spark pain in his deadened body. Though Kurosaki didn't mind the lack of sensation, it saved him from feeling his bruises and cuts, it was a new symptom. The insinuation wasn't good, not that he wasn't already worried over the inevitable, but his plethora of ailments had been reduced to nothing more than a fading headache and nausea.

"Fine," He mumbled, fearful that opening his mouth too much would lead to a new predicament.

"I can heal you if you'll be patient this time," Kuchiki suggested.

"Can't feel a thing,"

"Just because you can't feel it doesn't mean you aren't bleeding out, idiot!"

The noble sighed before continuing, situating herself on her knees with her hands already hovering over the wound on his shoulder.

"You're lucky you didn't dislocate anything. Not that your arms and legs look fine anyways. Straighten up and be still,"

Ichigo lifted his head off the concrete, trying to ensure his legs were in a feasible-looking position. His headache had dissipated, following the rest of his body into an insensitive state.

"The Soul Society," Kurosaki breathed.

"Do you think it will change?"

"Not sure," Rukia paused, mulling over his question.

"Before I left with you there was big talk about changing the records to accurately show what happened. They were gonna get your word, but Captain Ukitake convinced them to leave you alone considering,"

"What in the hell was I supposed to tell them? We invaded Las Noches and took out every threat without a second thought?"

"Not about that, dumb ass. I'm sure the Head Captain didn't need you to say that,"

"Well that doesn't sound very nice of the Head Captain. I could've clued him in on how well I did,"

Rukia had finished, there was only a singular cut aside from the bruises she was sure Ichigo would adorn the next morning, yet she kept her hands over his body, watching the hastened rise and fall of his chest. Throughout her time in the Senzaikyu while Ichigo had stormed the Seireitei, she had repented, though she didn't _want_ to give in to the Soul Society's corrupt conviction system, coming to understand she regretted dragging him into this in the first place. The noble had thoroughly enjoyed Kurosaki's company and, if she had known what would play out, would've sought his friendship in another way. She was fine with taking on the burden of knowing the two would never meet again as long as he was happy, or, at the least, _breathing_. It didn't seem like that would be the case, a mere human couldn't stand a chance against a supernatural army, but there were a few moments between Aizen's defection and squad four's call to action where everything seemed alright. In those seconds, her remorse had dissipated, only to return twentyfold when she realized that he would be fighting in a war that _seemingly_ , at the time, had nothing to do with him nor his friends.

Once Ichigo had effectively stopped the Sokyoku, she also came to notice her overwhelming _faith_ in him, which ignited a _hope_ that he would survive the upcoming showdown. Then, for another moment, it seemed they would make it, only for her to be informed of him being the last one standing in this madman's war who would become a sacrifice _regardless_ of his decision. Kuchiki knew he didn't mind. Everyone knew this, yet nobody dare stop him for there was no other way. Dead, or wishing he was, he saved them and they had no way to absolve their _debt_.

Rukia clamped down on her tongue when she felt Ichigo's hand latch onto her own, that had wandered down his body in an attempt to fix his minor ailments. His grip was tight around her wrist, a supposed sign of his improved shoulder, and he had _completely_ tensed up. His legs and arms were discernibly strained, his free hand clawing at the ground while his feet bore down on the roof the two had camped out on. Kuchiki had drawn blood, the taste and panic having flooded her senses and efficiently stunned her due to the substitute's lack of verbal explanation and evident injury.

"Ichigo!" She barked.

Rukia gave up the short lived struggle against Ichigo's grasp to use her free hand to rip apart the shredded and blood soaked shihakusho that covered his shoulder. She was competent at kido, she knew that much having been the top in her class, and the unperturbed skin proved her skills but held no _answers_ for Kurosaki's frenetic gasps. Kuchiki pushed herself off the ground, now kneeling on one knee opposed to both as she slid her unfettered arm underneath the substitute's back, slinging his own appendage over her shoulders.

She was small, quite obviously, and carrying _Zangetsu_ had become a struggle in the past. If the roles had been reversed, Ichigo _would_ have been executed provided he didn't originally put up a fight, and Rukia wouldn't have let him hear the end of it. Nor would she let him get away with _this_. Urahara's was her best bet, Ichigo having been called to the shop every other day to become subject to Kisuke's worry. The former captain's mask was failing, having _outright_ said that he didn't know anything other than what had happened to in the past. Ichigo was, and always had been, a different case that Kisuke was determined to solve.

It was going to be a matter of spirit energy, the noble decided, Kurosaki's sheer _solidity_ having highlighted her struggle in bringing herself to her feet with the substitute hanging around her shoulders by a thread. Ichigo was undoubtedly holding back, _silent_ pain and shortness of breath the only evidence she had that something was wrong. Her inner cheek remained trapped between her jaws in an attempt to hold back her own grunts as she glided from building to building, using the alleyways below to map out where she and Ichigo had ended up. His spiritual pressure mimicked his breathing, going from frantic to barely there in a matter of seconds she _didn't_ want to waste.

Fluctuations in Kurosaki's spirit energy had become quotidian, the surging and retreating currently a shallow lapping compared to the occasional _tsunami_ that had many times sent him and the people around him to their knees. It was a game of Russian Roulette. Each outburst had a chance of being his soul's last cry for help, and each momentary depletion could slowly fade to nothing. Regardless, Ichigo still played, chancing _everything_ despite knowing each hollow he mows down could very well be his last.

"Rukia,"

His voice was strained and hesitant. Some days there were warnings, manifested through headaches, and others there weren't. Right now, she had to make an emergency landing. The apex of his spiritual output was sudden, his formerly limp body curling in on itself the moment Kuchiki slid him off of her and onto another concrete building that bordered the suburbs of Karakura. She was forced to the ground beside him, eyes wide and all seeing as the substitute spasmed only _inches_ away, completely helpless against the debilitating waves of spiritual pressure. Rukia had barely been able to stand as she tried to situate Ichigo in a comfortable position, her knees buckling before she could come to his aid.

She was _afraid_ , having been unable to accept Ichigo's condition much like Uryuu, trying to undertake the task of preserving the substitute. It was a game Kurosaki played with no outward disturbance, though his facade was _barely_ short of see through, and she was left dreading and waiting for the end. Every time he selfishly crashed, she was left watching and waiting for his _last_ words to her.

Dead, or wishing he was, he would be rendered _completely_ useless. This game would kill him one way or another, and it was slowly putting an end to her sanity.

_Both of them were helpless, watching and waiting, neither willing to show the profound fear that left them in a constant state of terrorizing agony._

"Rukia, I can't- I,"

It should've been her clue when the pressure that had left her immobile dissipated. She should've known when he _screamed_. She should've known when Urahara gave her _that_ look. When he was out for another week. When he awoke with _fear_ in his eyes. When he _struggled_ to walk outside. When he fidgeted during their last conversation. It didn't hit her until his alarm swelled, eyes searching the sky for any last trace of _her_.

Rukia had pride. She knew better than to dream. Yet she had hope, only for that faith to be shattered when he walked back into his house, _unmitigated_ horror and agony emanating from the inkling of spirit energy she managed to concentrate on.

_Wishing he was dead, he was still a hero and she had no way to piece him back together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know im really writing between the same time frame for most of these fics. it's honestly my favorite part of the whole story and i also need to reread and watch from the lost agent onwards before tybw gets animated. yes im going to watch it. yes im going to suffer.


	7. Why are You so Full of Rage? Because You are Full of Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm upset because you're bleeding, idiot,"  
> I'm worried that it still isn't over for you.

Rukia had ditched her sandals prior to leaving the hirayamajiro that housed the land's ruling family, opting instead to allow her feet to rest upon the frigid rock pathways that ran throughout the villages. She didn't particularly mind the tingling in her feet as the cold, brought about by the purple waves in the sky that marked the end of the sun's reign as well as the winter that would lead to her demise, encased the bare skin that escaped her kimono's embrace. The hand that peeked out of her sleeve carried a small brown satchel; handed over to her by a villager who had stopped to offer his congratulations. The words had _royally_ pissed her off, though she was sure someone of his rank, someone that she _envied_ , had no idea of the absolute torture she was going through. Agony that couldn't be soothed by a fuzzy pouch of rock sugar.

Kuchiki acknowledged it was a sweet gift the man probably couldn't afford to give, and she didn't want to lose it after tucking it into her obi due to her mad dash to the edge of town, so, in her nearly frostbitten hand it remained. Before leaving, she had debated bringing a coat, but had ultimately decided it would get in her way. She needed to hurry and a bulky fabric covering her thin violet kimono, decorated by white sakura below the obi's reach, would do nothing but restrict her movement. Rukia supposed she could be considered ignorant. Not only for hoping that leaving her clan's hirayamajiro would change something, but for leaving behind any sort of outerwear, not that frostbite would stand up to what this winter was sure to hold.

She was nineteen, despite her legs being near nonexistent yet still fairly quick, and was sure that this could've happened seasons ago. Seasons ago probably would've been less painful, and less cold not that she liked the heat, even though she now had hope that would certainly be ripped away from her. That's where the agony began. Her last ray of light being extinguished would crush her more than her previously resigned attitude towards the marriage would ever harm her. Either way, Rukia despised it and, despite hope being a sunbeam to most, it only hurt worse when it was taken away.

_How could hope possibly help when it always had the chance of being taken away?_

She was in the dark. It was inevitable. The sun had been taken away and here she was, sprinting past a village looking for any last sign of light. All that was left was the moon above her, which she was certain was covered by clouds that promised snow by morning. Everything that flew past Kuchiki's line of vision would be blanketed by snow, something she had cherished until she realized that tomorrow, the path of snow would be the road she took to demolish her hope of rescue.

She was full of hate for the man and elders awaiting her arrival at a foreign clan's home, yet love was all she was allowed to show for him. A love that was supposed to be reserved for her brother, the daimyo, and a boy, a ronin, that fought tooth and nail against the court aristocrats that condemned her to a life of darkness and _unmitigated_ suffering beside a man that propagated pain in the lives of others. A man that had nearly smothered her hope that she was hanging onto by a thread as she ran past the last spread out huts that gave way to spruce and fir.

The path had twisted, the sun that had long since disappeared leaving behind a smear of purple that could be seen between the trees that lined her peripheral vision. A month ago, Rukia had moved the meeting places with the ronin from the garden that surrounded her castle to the outskirts of a village that sat near the Kuchiki-Yamada clan border. The sunset was their cue, the visible orange hues indicating the two's set rendezvous time. The garden had proved a risky choice, the ronin and her brother having created a three way war between each other and the court nobles, the ronin fighting against the oblivious aristocrats' decision for different reasons than the daimyo, the leading Kuchiki refusing to believe the ronin's claims in order to keep his sanity. Marrying off his sister to a madman was a risk he was forced to take, yet wasn't forced to believe. It was always the possibility, and that, along with the daimyo's similar predicament, being what Rukia supposed was his driving force, not that the daimyo's sister marrying a ronin had become ideal due to his own marriage of a now dead commoner. The Kuchiki head wanted to preserve his sister-in-law, marriage in every sense being out of the question due to the promise he made to his wife, Rukia's sister. A promise he never regretted, protecting the girl becoming his personal _obsession_ as well.

"You came,"

The noble dropped the bag of konpeito, scrambling for the weapon hidden in her violet obi. Kuchiki's advisors had forced the concealable weapon upon her, the katana kept in her room being considered crude for a princess to carry, though the girl longed to say it was because a hidden knife held more shock factor. It wasn't common knowledge that she could fight. It had taken begging and pleading to convince her brother to teach her how to properly wield a sword, and for the ronin to fine tune her skills. She had an advantage against possible assassins, but the real reason held her _longing_ to protect.

"I thought you'd left. It's been two months,"

Rukia's panic quickly dissipated, replaced with guilt over what she had mentally done to the samurai before her. She was going to have to hurt him again. He'd be the only one to have prior knowledge of tomorrow's procession to her marriage.

"Don't be so sad. I guess you got some good news,"

"The only news is that I'm leaving tomorrow, dumb ass!"

"No you're not,"

"I'm not running away with you either. You'll just die and there's no fun in that,"

The two had met five months ago, the ronin offering to take up a solo mission for good pay by the daimyo. He was to guard Rukia while the two traveled to another clan's territory for a meeting that would determine the noble's fate. The mission had soon become a death sentence, between the assassins going after the Kuchiki and the bounty hunters who had their eyes on the wrongly convicted samurai, the ronin's self sacrificial nature adding to the reason for Rukia's inquiry about the supposed murderer's past. In her eyes, the criminal had soon become a _victim_ of the same man that had sealed her own fate, starting a struggle for truth between him and her brother who were momentarily united under their need to halt the court ordered marriage.

"I did it, Rukia,"

"All you did was leave me behind,"

"Leave you? I went to speak with the court,"

"What?"

"Your future husband, Aizen- that bastard's in jail,"

"Ichigo I- How?"

The samurai in question kicked off from the tree, his waraji shuffling against the mismatched stone walkway that separated the forest. His hair had grown out considerably, his orange locks creeping down the back of his neck and covering his eyes. His grey yukata had suffered changes as well, missing strips of cloth giving way to the scars, bandages, and bloodied skin beneath.

"They wouldn't listen until Aizen's men ambushed me. They didn't know who I even was until that liar tried to tell them I slaughtered my own family. Of course once they learned that I would've had to be ten at the time, six years ago, they made a move to stop the interrogation before the execution he'd set up,"

Kurosaki bent over, biting his tongue as he grabbed the bag of candy Rukia had thrown to the ground in an attempt to defend herself. A soft brown pouch, tied off with rope at the top and a silver dagger that had made it's presence known through shimmering as the moonlight bounced off it's reflective surface.

"It's over? They got you out?"

"Not exactly. One of Aizen's men turned on him and saved me. Gin, the silver haired assassin we had fought before. He dropped me off at the court's medic and went to spill his story to the higher ups. Apparently, I wasn't the only one Aizen decided torture for the past few years,"

"Unohana, right? How bad was it, Ichigo?"

"Don't know. Can't remember much up until she told me that she attempted to bring up a case against Aizen in the past."

Rukia took the proffered bag and knife that she had discarded, tucking them back into her obi as she awaited an update on their current position.

"That bastard. He tried to marry you to get to me. Byakuya-"

The samurai closed his eyes, allowing his hands to instinctively circle around the hilt of the katana that poked out of the white sash that contrasted the black cotton that covered the rest of his body.

"It's over, Rukia. That asshole better- Byakuya better give it up,"

"Ichigo," The noble began, brushing Kurosaki's whitening hands off of his katana.

"It's over. Why? Why are you so mad?"

"Because,"

The ronin snatched up Kuchiki's retreating hands, forcing his eyes open so that he could confirm the answer that had stripped him bare and torn him up more than Aizen could ever wish.

"Because, you're still upset,"

"I'm upset that you're bleeding, idiot,"

_I'm worried that it still isn't over for you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope there aren't any historical inaccuracies seeing as i actually put tons of research into this. not wasted research, though. i had a similar idea for a fic so if ya liked it- stay tuned.i probably will turn this into a loooong fic. be careful, guys! don't forget water! xoxo


	8. East of the Sun, West of the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They needed something to occupy their minds while stuck in their own region of the sky, and each had chose the brightest star they could find to fill the space in between.

Their domains touched, the edge of both worlds united by a near timeless hell he had found himself trapped in on far too many occasions that should've never been. Nobody was _supposed_ to find the end of the world, yet he knew exactly where the escape route was. The road out was closed for him. If he were to beg or plead for the door to be opened all his uncharacteristic truths and nearly transparent lies would be brought to light. Ichigo was trapped under his need to protect his _family_ from the truth and he felt like he was suffocating.

There had been a moment, a few months ago, where the moon and sun collided. The world should've ended, he was _surprised_ it didn't, but they both knew an apocalypse, an apology to each other, would've been selfish. So they stopped. They knew the unspoken words, but each danced around the truth, opting instead to rise and set each day for the _family_ they had built out of fear. They were codependent. Without the sun, the moon would never shine, and without the moon, the sun couldn't pull the tides on it's own. They needed something to occupy their minds while stuck in their own region of the sky, and each had chose the brightest star they could find to fill the space in between.

Ichigo was trapped, and he always wondered how. Everything had _always_ ended up in his favour. He was alive and breathing, _they_ were alive and breathing, and he had what was stolen returned to him, no mind that it took seventeen months of agony. He had what he thought he wanted, but what he _needed_ had been ripped away yet again to fulfill her own duties.

Originally, he had questioned it. After his powers were returned, he had struggled with forgiving her for what she marked off as fulfilling her duties. It was abandonment, yet he knew his temporary grudge was nothing short of narcissistic. It was a mistake he thought he made, that Rukia prioritized him over her duties and her _husband_ , but the mutual numbness and guilt, the _true_ mistake they had made in believing they had to settle for less, proved that the fault lay in the fact that neither spoke up, not in neither cared.

They two had sealed their fate under the belief that two worlds weren't meant to collide, that the sun and the moon weren't meant to touch. Neither could leave to show up on the other's doorstep without propagating doubt in the people they had made a promise to. They were stuck with the _family_ they had sworn to protect, the only fabricated purpose they had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i interpreted this as separation because east of the sun is the moon and so on but like the moon and sun never touch. its either that or i just cant write anything other than angst. yeah, its definitely the angst bit.


	9. Us Against the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a looming air full of awkwardness and guilt on everyone's behalf. Guilt for not stopping Aizen, guilt for abandoning his fiancée, and guilt for disrupting what should have been a full night's sleep.

He longed to scream, fight, _anything_ to show them. Ichigo was forced to bite his tongue due to the many worries that had left him running on pure instinct as he hid from the Soul Society opposed to fighting, having no personal wish to survive the situation he was thrust into. If he fought back, got found, or lost control of himself, or what had become a part of him, he'd end up killing his companions and that's what kept him stagnant. That, and the near numbness in his limbs that left only a minuscule amount of feeling used to detect the nervous energy that felt as if it were pulsating throughout his body.

Moving _truly_ was hard, Kurosaki coming to realize the problems of characters displayed in books were nowhere near fabricated. Even if he could move about easily, even if he could _fight_ , he wouldn't get past a lazy swing of his zanpakuto. He _itched_ to throw a fit, yet every time he tried, his weakness was reflected through his inability to hold his fist together. It did nothing but prove that he had been reduced to nothing short of _useless_ , all because some holier-than-thou judges refused to hold a _legitimate_ trial.

There was only one side to the story that mattered, and it wasn't his. He was hunkered down in an abandoned shack located in the World of the Living, simply because someone, Aizen, told a lie before he could speak the truth. He was constantly being hunted, be it by the _thing_ forced into his head or the Soul Society. Ichigo's life felt over, yet he had to cling to the mangled corpse of what he used be, for fear that death would be the slip up that led to the further ruining of those around him. It was the only thing that kept him going. Living in _fear_. Living in hastily constructed stealth gigai. Living with a new roommate in _his_ inner world that was determined to be the leader of _his_ pack.

Twelve _barely_ sane people crammed into the equivalent of a corner store, the only room that allotted adequate living space being the kidou induced hole Urahara had blasted into the ground near the back of the hut, the small yet livable chasm earning its place beneath a compromised section of the wooden flooring. It was a fixer-upper, not that they could complain. They had essentially stolen the forgotten building, ready to turn it into a base to _fix_ themselves, the old shack and the underground training area, that was comprised of at least two and a half of the building's square footage, coming second.

There were fourteen barriers built to keep the Soul Society out. Twelve that encompassed the former officer's bodies, eleven _truly_ uncomfortable gigai constructed by Kisuke, and two that surrounded their newfound home, two effective eighties level kidou cast by Tessai and Hachigen. Nine more barriers were in place, meant to keep each of the hollowfied captains and lieutenants prudent. Nine crumbling mental walls that kept them awake at night, unwilling to admit to the fear of losing control again.

Two weeks in and time was at a standstill for them, yet they were well aware that time was running out in their former home. The Soul Society was running out of time to find them, and that was the only upside, other than the minimal progress they were forced to make throughout the past fourteen days.

"Li- Ichigo,"

A hoarse, though compassionate, voice echoed throughout the empty room that served as a meeting place. The falter at the beginning of the sentence mercilessly bounced off of the rotting wooden panels that made up the walls, the only acknowledgment being a small huff of frustration in habitually reaching out to offer Kurosaki's former title.

"How is she?"

Ichigo inquired, his voice far lower than the former Kido Corps Lieutenant's, and barely above the whisper he'd maintained throughout the past weeks in spite of his loquacious tendencies.

"She did it. Mashiro is currently resting. According to her, she won the fight and expects to remain in complete control." Hachigen reported.

"I guess," Kurosaki began from his place in the far left corner of the makeshift meeting room currently shrouded in darkness.

"I guess that means it's my turn,"

"Whenever you're ready, Ichigo,"

With a nod, Hachi exited the room, leaving the former lieutenant with his inner cheek pinched between his teeth as he debated heading towards their underground accommodations.

Kurosaki was currently uncomfortable with his current situation, yet, with his arms resting on his knees and head pressed against the cool wall that was ruffling the unkempt hair that had begun to creep down his neck, he was more than satisfied. There was no longing to move, just the _need_ to stall, to wait alone in this dark room until he was dragged off to what could be his death, not that he minded. The actual task at hand was _wishing_ to put up a fight against the parasite in his inner world. He'd given up, they all had, but they all pressed the pep talks they should be giving themselves on each other, making for a pathetic and hypocritical excuse to refrain from capitulating.

After they had located their current residence and put up a front to fend off the Soul Society as well as humans, a handful of barriers and a private property sign, the subterranean mass bedroom had become a training area, each of the former officers reluctantly smashing together a plan that allowed for them to get into their inner worlds and fight their own demons. A week later and Hachigen, Love, Hiyori, Shinji, and Kensei had overcome their inner hollows, a term Kisuke readily provided. By the time the month was half way over, Mashiro and Ichigo had been left in waiting for the preparations to be made for the eighth and ninth times respectively. Kuna had beat down her problems rather quickly, seeing as she had only lost control once, which allotted Kurosaki time that still kept running through his fingers before he could grasp even a _second_.

The former lieutenant pried his eyes open, his hands falling to his side as he made a move to push himself off the ground, frigid air flooding between his previously warmed forearms and thighs. Ichigo grunted, his knees popping as he straightened himself up, pushing the hair that fell over his eyes to the side as he ambled towards the door.

"Ya ready, kiddo?" Hirako drawled, his arms crossed and shoulder pressed against the cracking door frame.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that,"

"Come on! You're basically a baby compared to me,"

"Shinji, I was already aware that you were an old man," Kurosaki grumbled, pushing past his former captain, eyes locked on the ground.

"Way ta turn it around, kiddo"

\--

"Looks like you really did turn this one around, Ichigo,"

"Thanks, Shinji," Ichigo coughed, gaze drifting over the dissipating reishi that made up the hollow mask he had donned seconds prior.

"For what?"

The former captain reached down to secure his grip on Kurosaki's arms, and pull his lieutenant up, shivering when the dirt that formed their training area took up residence beneath his fingernails.

"Not calling me a kid,"

Shinji smirked, allowing Ichigo's limp body to fall against his chest. He turned his gaze towards the rest of the alleged criminals, signaling Ushoda over as he shifted to the side and pulled the orange haired shinigami's arm over his shoulder.

The group had begun to dissipate, the onlookers either heading upstairs or breaking off to see to the more minor injuries; their de-facto healer had been summoned to tend to the lieutenant who had made himself the last of them to finish the rush to conquer the parasite planted in their inner worlds. It had become a sprint to sanity, Kisuke having developed a plan within three days to ensure the safety of each of them as they battled a smaller part of themselves. Action was taken immediately, the nine of them desperate to relieve themselves of the worry that they wouldn't be the ones pulling the reigns when they woke up in the morning. The second phase of their scheme had begun.

_Train and try to forget._

\--

Metal on metal. A sound he had grown used to during his dreams, as well as in the outside world. Swords clashing had become a quotidian sound since he first stepped foot in the Seireitei. Metal on metal, and grunts of pain. Yet again, he'd woken up to ringing in his ears as the sound resonated throughout the room. Yet again, the ringing was too close for comfort, and Ichigo held his breath as he waited for a recollection of the nightmare that had awoken him from the few hours of sleep he managed to get each night.

"Ichigo, you idiot! Tell them it's only me!"

The headache that had lingered for the past few days snuck back into the front of his mind, leaving him to part through his pain-muddled brain and open his eyes in order make out the possibly fabricated yelling that was muffled by damaged, but still effective, walls. Despite the room being dark, save for the orange glow of a lantern that leaked in through the doorway, Ichigo kept his eyes squinted as he attempted to differentiate between the back edge of a dream or commotion outside. The pain had receded slightly once his eyes had adjusted, Kurosaki now easily being able to peer around the empty room from his place on one of the few futon the former officer's managed to get their hands on. He had earned his turn off of the hard ground, even if it was due to the injuries he'd sustained during his battle for dominance over his brain. From what he was told, Kensei had relinquished his possession of the futon after he had lost consciousness, the foldable bed becoming his temporary resting place while his injuries healed.

The supposed noise that had aroused him had ceased, prompting the former lieutenant to force himself upright so he could truthfully tell himself it wasn't another bad night, as Shinji had put it after a previous _bad night_ in which Ichigo's former captain forced him to explain why the latter had grabbed the former's arm in his sleep. Kurosaki pulled himself to his feet, motionless due to the pain and stiffness that had overridden all other senses as he stood for the first time in the day and half he was told he was out for prior to falling asleep once again. He had managed to retain physical injuries, brought about by both the fight in his mind as well as the physical world. Word had gotten back to him, through a Lisa with a bandaged arm, that he had put up a fight they weren't certain they could win.

There was a hole in the roof of the room he tended to stay in, one that _constantly_ alluded to the time of day, and weather. A hole that was currently unnoticeable, having Ichigo subconsciously peg the time near midnight. The sky was still dark and, aside from the pain, he felt rested, though he believed it was most likely due his escapade to unconsciousness.

Kurosaki cracked his knuckles, glancing around the room at the two discarded blankets they had snagged on their first trip into town. It was risky, but necessary. An abandoned shack in the Japanese country side shouldn't attract attention, yet their presence was to be made known in order to avoid conflict with anyone other than the Soul Society. They had gotten looks. Partly due to their unprecedented stop by the marketplace, and partly due to Kisuke's statements about opening up a shop. A pathetic front, but Ichigo made himself believe it was because Kisuke didn't want to admit that they truly _were_ a homeless group of criminals.

Shinji, and Kensei who had taken to sleeping in what Ichigo considered _his_ room on occasion, had left. Every so often it was the seasoned shinigami that were doomed to miss their sleep due to the memories of battle and betrayal that plagued their subconscious. Occasionally, sparring was the cure, while other times called for the making of an early breakfast that dare not be loud for fear of awakening Hiyori.

Breakfast sounded appealing, Ichigo having ran on an empty stomach for the past day. He longed to take a peek outside, though allowing his reiatsu to be detected didn't sound as good as food. Kurosaki had ran through the usual I'm-finally-conscious procedures, the sound of swords clashing replaying in the background of his mind as he repeatedly attempted to play it off as a dream without risking his life to glance at the night sky. He replaced his undoubtedly confused expression with a scowl, making a move to pass through the door frame when the shouting he'd sworn was his imagination restarted.

_Someone was pissed._

_Lisa was pissed._

His pace had quickened, the feel of his hand yanking one of the many doors in his way registering far slower than the unexpected boost of adrenaline. The former lieutenant made a beeline through the kitchen to the front door, his movements becoming more frantic as the shouting and metal clinking turned to shrieking.

_Shrieking._

_It was his name._

_It was someone he knew._

_It was her._

"What the hell?"

The remark was involuntary, and it barely drew anyone's attention away from the crying girl that was currently surrounded by _significantly_ more powerful soul reapers.

_Shinigami with blades at another shinigami's throat._

"Ichigo, please,"

Her voice was strained, she was _pleading_ with him, and her stance was poor, sword attempting to squirm past her loose fists.

"Tell them I'm here for you,"

_Here for him._

_Here to get him._

_Here to save him._

"Do you trust her?" Kensei grumbled, indisputably pissed that he was forced to break a sweat in the early morning.

That would be his excuse, though it was yet another transparent facade. He was worried.

"Yeah, I- Hell, yes! Look at her! She didn't want to fight you assholes in the first place," Ichigo shouted, reasonably angry that they would even consider bringing harm to a lone squad member, despite the drawn swords having come nowhere near one another.

That would be his excuse, just another see through mask. He was afraid, and it wasn't only because he realized that the metal on metal sounds were a side effect of his far too consistent nightmares. Kurosaki was terrified at the prospect that he could be wrong. That girl could've been turned against them, sent to draw them out of hiding. He was timorous when thinking that he could be right. That girl could be here to help him, and he would've been the one that made her desperate enough to risk it _all._

"Rukia, I-"

The former lieutenant cut himself off, glancing around at the three shinigami who had went outside to take a stand against what they assumed to be the Soul Society's assassin. Shinji, Kensei, and Lisa each had no problem with displaying the same doubt, shock, and sheer exhaustion that Ichigo was experiencing alongside them. Shinji, Kurosaki's then captain, had been the first to know of the noble marriage that Ichigo had been roped into, the rules severely bent in order to allow the Kuchiki princess a chance at happiness.

_A marriage that never happened, and happiness she never got._

"Why? Why did you come, Rukia?"

Kensei and Lisa reluctantly followed Shinji's lead in sheathing his zanpakuto, knowing that, in spite of the many meetings and late night parties they had attended with Kurosaki, Hirako knew his second and command better than the two could ever wish.

"I came because I knew they were wrong. Captain Ukitake said so himself,"

"Sounds like Captain Ukitake is getting himself in trouble," Shinji huffed, his unoccupied fingers tapping against the hilt of his zanpakuto.

"He was speaking with Captain Kyoraku. The two of them have been around for awhile. I don't have all the details, but I was aware myself that something didn't sound right,"

"That dumb ass," Yadomaru snipped, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

Rukia had sheathed her sword as she spoke, quickly trying to regain her legendary Kuchiki posture. It was a failed attempt, the former officers being experienced in the act. Ichigo knew this, and, aside from the knowing glances shared with Urahara as the latter rushed them back inside, had his gaze fixed upon the shivering shinigami.

_She was still crying._

_Silently._

_Silently_ , she was _suffering_ as everyone eyed her with suspicion, except for Kurosaki who looked on out of guilt.

\--

"Can she stay?"

It was the first thing Ichigo asked the next day, a decision to head off to bed having been made the night before. If she didn't kill them in their sleep, she most likely wouldn't kill them at all. It was the unspoken reasoning behind the dropping of their guards. The former lieutenant felt like he had dragged in a runt, which is _precisely_ what Rukia had done the first time they met during the Academy's graduation exams. He was a soon-to-be shinigami with captain level reiatsu, and Rukongai citizen level experience and knowledge. A kid from a district lower than her own. A disheveled mess compared to the graceful air Rukia was forced to pick up upon her adoption into the Kuchiki family.

"It depends, Ichigo," Kisuke piped up, eyes scanning the soul reapers that sat in a circle in the center of the front room, most of the company lacking even an excuse for a zabuton.

"How do we know we can trust you, Miss Kuchiki?"

The noble in question looked up, biting her lip as she readied herself to give her long since decided response.

"Because," Rukia began firmly.

"I have no reason to lie to you and you have no reason to call me a liar,"

"I see," Urahara responded, seemingly awaiting for another to take up his role as lead speaker.

"Captain Ukitake always bragged about her,"

"Wait, I-" Kuchiki attempted to chase off Lisa's camouflaged invite to stay with the alleged criminals.

"I'm going to eat. You can't make breakfast and expect it to remain hot while you mess around in a meeting," Yadomaru cut off the noble's protest, leading a procession out of the room that included the majority of the group, save for Kisuke, Rukia, Ichigo, Shinji, and Hachigen.

"I guess it's decided," Hirako smiled, gesturing for a zoned out Urahara to head off to get something to eat. The newest of the captains before Aizen's betrayal tended to be the one who went days without sleep or food, not that that was unusual for Ichigo either, instead jumping up to take care of the others regardless of how much his body, very much visibly, protested. It was _guilt_. A feeling of guilt the blonde was constantly assured was unnecessary. Guilt that was undeterred by the consistent statements of 'I'm fine' and 'you don't have to help.' Guilt that would increase twentyfold alongside Ichigo's own if it was discovered that Rukia came not of her own intentions.

"Is my assumption that you're uninjured correct, Miss Kuchiki?"

"I'm fine. Thank you,"

There was a looming air full of awkwardness and guilt on everyone's behalf. Guilt for not stopping Aizen, guilt for abandoning his fiancée, and guilt for disrupting what should have been a full night's sleep.

"Is it safe to say that you're feeling fine as well?"

"Huh? Me? I mean yeah. I'm awake and sane and all,"

Ichigo fumbled around for an adequate response once he realized Hachi's inquiry had been directed at himself.

"Rukia-"

"What did you do to yourself this time?" Kuchiki demanded, interrupting what she knew would turn into an apology from Ichigo that _she_ was supposed to owe.

"Nothing! Unlike you, obviously. You tried to ruin your whole life just to see me," Kurosaki snapped back, his low pitch violently discarded in order to take on a more annoyed tone.

"You don't know anything about ruining my life! My life would've been ruined if I hadn't come, which doesn't sound like too bad an idea anymore!"

"Good then! Maybe I'll tell the others that you decided leaving the Soul Society just wasn't worth it. Or are you still crying about missing me?"

Hachi had taken his leave, Urahara following once Hirako's hint had been passed onto him through the former Kido Corps lieutenant. It was a refreshing taste of normal that rivaled the stagnant hopelessness that clung to their skin every waking hour. A rejuvenating sense of normal, of being _remotely_ alright, that managed to erase a fraction of the guilt that they had been unable to discard.

_One normal conversation._

A conversation that didn't involve the silent reassurance that everything would be alright. A conversation that wasn't shrouded in lies.

"I'm not crying!"

"Well, you were!"

Rukia had repudiated her zanpakuto, opting instead to reach out to grab the brown tunic that was draped over Kurosaki's bandaged shoulders.

"See! You did hurt yourself. You shouldn't be so careless, Ichigo,"

"Thanks, Rukia," Ichigo mimicked the noble's softening voice, attempting to feel out the thoughts behind Kuchiki's stumped expression.

"For what?"

"For not calling me an idiot,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a parasite called shinji calls ichigo kiddo. said parasite also muddles my brain to the point where i don't know if it's canon or not. so, did i combine two of my favourite h/cs into one fic? yes. was it worth it? you tell me. i hope the whole "we trust ichigos judgment about his wife" doesnt make it seemed rushed/unrealistic. if it was, pray do tell so i can not make mistakes in the future.


	10. Just Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission was nothing more than a set up.

"Captain Kuchiki,"

He hated it. He _despised_ every second of it.

"You are a captain yourself. You have no need to call me by my title. Tell me what it is that you want,"

Straight to the point. Something he was told _not_ to get to. He had to be _polite_.

"Right, uh, Byakuya,"

It was over. The hole he'd dug would soon be topped with a fresh layer of dirt

"Do not stumble over your words. You want something. If you truly want it, say it,"

_Oh fuck._

It was a conversation Ichigo _knew_ was coming far before he had even set foot in the Soul Society on the day that marked the beginning of his permanent residency. An invitation from Kyoraku; a message passed through Rukia, who had suggested the substitute take over for her late captain. A fitting replacement, was the opinion the rumors displayed. A Shiba descendant, an inspiring boy, _human_ boy, full of hope, and shinigami of Karakura Town. The perfect depiction of squad thirteen.

The invitation that was passed through Kuchiki had grown in length, the lieutenant adding extra benefits when she informed Kurosaki of the upcoming changes to be made in his routine. He was eighteen at the time, not that time mattered much to him anymore, and utterly clueless when it came to pursuing a _life_. The high school graduate ended up pursuing _death_ , opposed to a meek mannered job as the English literature professor he had always wanted to be.

The decision had been made when he was sixteen, but required no confirmation until two years later. Ichigo was a shinigami. He _needed_ to be a shinigami, and he _needed_ Rukia. He was human who exceeded his limits as a mortal. Who won a war only to feel like he had lost everything. Who had been shown that normal was far from what he _truly_ desired. A captain. A noble. The perfect depiction of what the Kuchiki clan was looking for, but this time, he was _shunned_.

"You don't have to be rude about it. There's nothing wrong with saying 'uh.' Everyone does,"

"That is not important. I told you I'd only give you my time if it was urgent. I didn't invite you into my office just to be insulted,"

"I didn't insult you!"

A pause, a _sigh_.

"I mean- listen,"

It had been cloudy all morning, the distant rumbles of thunder making the mimicry of Kurosaki's mood near perfect. The rain hadn't begun yet, it hadn't rained in awhile, but the sky, and Byakuya's arrogant disposition, promised a storm was on the way.

"I said to get to the point, didn't I? I don't think I need to remind you again that this conversation is not my top priority,"

He had been in the Seireitei for five months. He'd been in the same position for _five months_. Readying himself for this assignment. Tone down your attitude, speak politely, be patient. It was all in the job description of this mission, as well as the missions, typically involving a dinner party, before. The first few times he was put on the field, he had failed. Arguments had ensued, and not only between him and Rukia, who had dished out the assignments.

Two slip ups. Two _horribly_ worded phrases was all it took for Kurosaki to _think_ about what he was doing. Three relaxing dinners after that. Three smooth-running meals, and he still was given assignment after assignment. Regardless if he failed or not, the game was never ending, until now. It was the game changer, or the game-ender. One mistake, one _more_ mistake, and it was all over. The relationship between him and Rukia. The bonding experience, as Rukia put it, between him and Byakuya. The sunny days. It would be _game over_.

"I apologize for taking up your time, Byakuya. I just- I was busy all day and I- I want to know,"

Lightning. In the clouds, but still there. If he didn't hurry up, he'd be caught in the storm. When the thunder followed, Byakuya had momentarily paused his brushstrokes, rolling up the sleeves of his haori and dipping the worn brush in the ink jar that sat to the right of his neatly stacked paperwork, one pile signed and the other waiting for his review. After the rumbling receded, Ichigo spoke up yet again, his fists clenched opposed to his former manner of pinching his old shihakusho that had been replaced with a uniform lacking sleeves, as well as a matching coat that donned the thirteenth's insignia.

"Byakuya, Rukia and-"

"My break is-"

"I want your blessing," Kurosaki returned the favour, cutting the captain of the sixth off to get to the point. Something that wasn't in the job description that Byakuya had asked, _forced_ , him to do. Get to the point.

"Why should I allow you to marry Rukia?"

"Because, I think you know that we've moved past just friends. You let us go that far, so why not further? I've proved myself to you, kicked your ass, became a captain, and now, you owe me,"

"I owe you?" The Kuchiki head repeated.

"I risked my life for her when you didn't do shit,"

Polite. Formal. Two tasks failed, and yet Ichigo longed to believe that the mission hadn't yet been compromised.

"Ichigo Kurosaki,"

Byakuya took his time placing the brush in the ink jar, the intricate movement astonishingly silent despite the visible rustling cloth and wood meeting glass.

_The mission was-_

"I've already told Rukia yes. She asked first and, as a captain, I think you should be ashamed that you let your lieutenant beat you to such a simple question,"

_The mission was a fucking set up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing much to say except i hope you enjoyed the storm and paperwork references to ichigos current position! have a good day/night <3


	11. You Can Tell Me Anything, I Won't Listen Though

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rukia's gaze passed over her injured captain to peer at the window that was centered on the wall above the bed. She was going to have to pull overtime and tonight, Rukia would be alone.

She discarded the stamp, allowing the pad that was soft with ink to fall atop the paper she had readied herself to sign. Her posture had improved in a matter of seconds as she lifted her outstretched palm up to reach the butterfly that meandered through the window that lay way to her squad barrack's court yard. The tingling that plagued her fingers resumed, signaling to the exhaustion that threatened to pull her body under as she stamped paper after paper, awaiting the only report that held _interest_. Her curiosity, and unceasing nervous energy, offered a boost of zeal to kept her awake, albeit hunched over the desk positioned at the back of the office she had moved into following her promotion.

The lieutenant had grown accustomed to her own office, yet her living quarters had yet to be discovered seeing as she had opted to bunk with her squad's newly appointed captain. It had been a week, the L-shaped couch accompanied by a coffee table that sat next to the window on the left of the door and the wooden shelves to the right becoming her new normal, and the paperwork remaining consistent throughout her days assisting her former captain and now her days working under her fiancé. Rukia never particularly _minded_ filling out reports, though she would much rather accept field work than awaiting the return of the advance team that departed near an hour ago, set to return once the mission Head Captain Kyoraku dished out had been completed. It didn't particularly make sense to the Kuchiki. Even if she had been oblivious to how missions were dealt, she would have presumed scheming and the butterfly that had perched upon her trembling index finger confirmed her suspicions.

It was typically a _lieutenant's_ job. She would've assumed _she_ was supposed to take a handful of squad members to eliminate a group of adjuchas that had grown interested in a town that bordered the current juureichi, Karakura, most likely due to the increasing spiritual output in areas near the juureichi. Times were changing, along with squad thirteen's leaders, and the Department of Research and Development had predicted the weakening of the town's inhabitants, but had no insight into the World of the Living's current predicament. Kuchiki had _expected_ mobility of a seated officer once word got out, but her captain had been the one leaving _her_ with the paperwork that had piled up due to the bombardment of ceremonies and meetings surrounding her new rank as well as her clan's affairs.

Squabbles had erupted throughout her household, from what she could tell in the lesser time she spent there, the clan elders torn between what actions should be taken regarding the Kuchiki noblewoman's marriage. The higher ups had taken their previous sides stating the Kuchiki name had been tarnished _enough_ due to previous marriages, while others debated that a captain, Shiba descendant, and two-time war hero was _far_ past worthy enough. Rukia was well aware that they would eventually give in to her wishes, seeing as Byakuya had given the go ahead for the proposal, yet she still longed to argue her own points. She was also mindful of the fact that she had no right to force anybody to make a decision, though she hated their _attempts_ to govern _her_ life, and that she had no place to beg the head captain to relieve her worries over her captain's absence.

"Shunsui wants reports done by tonight. I'd say he's testing you but that ass is overworking me as well. That gives you about two hours before dusk to get everyone's word on the mission. Ichigo and your third and seventh seats are currently in squad four's barracks. Heads up- there's a Show of Arms in the making,"

Rukia mumbled the message to herself, certain to add a thank you to Lieutenant Yadomaru at the end despite how rushed it was. She had fought the urge to shake the butterfly off her finger as she ditched the shrinking stack of paperwork to complete on her desk and scrambled to get to the door, her movements slowed due to the mindfulness she held of the tiny messenger.

"Squad four barracks. That dumb ass,"

Kuchiki combed her fingers through her hair that had grown out enough to fall down her back, exercising the belief her clan had embedded into her that she couldn't give way to her frantic thoughts, not that she wished to regardless of the etiquette she had been taught. The nervous energy had built up, this time giving her limbs life that had her on the verge of trembling as she used shunpo to shorten the time it took to head to squad four's domain.

The sun had settled just above the roof of the coordinated relief station that marked the beginning of the squad's living quarters and offices. She had two hours, minus the five minutes of travel time, yet the completion of the mission on her part depended on the _consciousness_ of those in the field.

"Lieutenant Kuchiki!"

The anxious exclamation bounced of the walls of the foyer, leaving the lieutenant in question searching for the source of the voice that had emerged from the hallway to the entrance's left.

"Rukia's fine for you, Hanatarou,"

"Right. Sorry. I assume you're here for, uh- third room down that way- this way! I mean your left,"

Kuchiki gave her friend a forced smile before passing him by on her way to the room she had been told to head to. She wasn't sure _who_ had required immediate medical attention, but, either way, Ichigo would be the one to pay be it through guilt or being subject to her exhaustion fueled anger.

"What took you three so long?" Rukia demanded, pausing in the doorway.

She pressed her hand to her forehead, sighing before smiling at the seated members she had startled.

The third seat, Sentaro, held the least amount of injuries, a bandaged forearm being the only visible ailment compared to the seventh seat's broken arm and wrapped leg.

"Report?" Rukia inquired, eyeing Ichigo who was perched upon the singular bed in the room opposed to the extra chair that sat nearby.

If that wasn't indicative enough that he was the one who messed up, the fact that the bed sheets were unmade and speckled with blood would've left the orange haired captain suspect enough.

"There were a couple gillian there as well. We got them, then I went after two of the adjuchas. Next thing I know, she,"

Ichigo paused to gesture at the seventh seat.

"was getting shoved around by the last adjucha. So I, being her captain, saved her ass because that's my job,"

"Sorry," the seventh seat piped up, seemingly waiting for Rukia to hand out her punishment.

"Not your fault," Kuchiki muttered.

"It's that idiot's fault for going off on his own only to come back and get impaled! Your job, _Ichigo_ , is to make sure everyone comes home safe! _You_ are supposed to work as a team leader, not on your own. Now you get carried home by two other injured people who _you_ should've helped and have to get healed by squad four before you bleed out,"

"I think I know my _own_ job better than my _lieutenant_ ," Kurosaki countered, grunting as he situated himself in a more comfortable sitting position up against the headboard, a easier alternative to sitting up with no support.

"You have no excuse, dumb ass! Say what you want but I'm not obliged to listen considering _you're_ the one who jeopardized the whole mission!"

Rukia's gaze passed over her injured captain to peer at the window that was centered on the wall above the bed. She was going to have to pull overtime, which she wouldn't have _minded_ if Ichigo was free to leave the room with the two squad members that had witnessed their captain's punishment from their places sitting next to the bedside table.

_Tonight, Rukia would be alone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys sick of ichigo getting hurt yet? unfortunately, i'm not.


End file.
